


Beastly Affairs

by High_Inquisitor



Category: Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon & Comics)
Genre: Gen, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-19 14:37:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17003532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/High_Inquisitor/pseuds/High_Inquisitor
Summary: When Enoch appears to greet Wirt and Greg, the Beast's theme briefly plays. Why is that? The answer lies deep in the past, before the boys' arrival. To Enoch making a sinister deal with the Beast for the good of his town.





	Beastly Affairs

Potsfield was suffering, and the Enoch, the cat mayor knew it. As he made his way through the town these days, he didn’t see the merry skeletons he once did, but rather tired, weary bones that had lost their spark for the second chance the Unknown gave them. The town festivals and gatherings had worse and worse turn outs as the people began vanishing into the woods. Most of the surviving folk didn’t want to attend knowing that their loved ones wouldn’t be there. 

Such was the price in The Unknown of living without heeding the warnings. Warnings told of the Beast, a frightfully powerful creature that made the forest his domain and fed upon the souls that lived within.

It had begun three years ago, when caravans still moved through the town and travelers rushed to the market for the town’s pumpkins every harvest. The Anders family had suffered a horrible tragedy; Their patriarch, John Anders, had passed during the winter of a sickness. His son, Thomas Anders had taken their family’s horse and ridden to the next town to find medicine. A treacherous journey, especially for one so young, but the boy went under moonlight without saying goodbye to his mother. When her son never returned and her husband died a few days later, Martha Anders became a shell of her former self. She only had one body to bury, and the town wasn’t sure if she was better or worse for it.

The friends of Thomas Anders had gone looking for him. They had taken too much inspiration from their friend and done so under the crooked half moon and without their parents knowing, at least for a few hours. While in the day the woods were inviting and warm, the night, especially the winter’s night, was so cold the dead would shiver. The kids never stood a chance, and they perished in the snow. Just like their friends, their bodies were never found.

Soon their parents went looking. And the friends of their parents. And before you know it, the entire town was leaving their comfortable, warm homes and searching the dangerous woods for their loved ones.

Few of them returned. Those who did told tales of a horrible shadow within the woods, one who sang with lungs too rich for his intentions. The song was a dirge, so the people had come to know, and it belonged to none other than the Beast.

Now, three years later, Potsfield was a shadow of its former self. No music filled the streets, neighbors didn’t love one another with the strength of community, but with the strength of hardship and the guilt of survival. It all pained Enoch to see. His people were once so full of life, but without the faces they knew and loved, life had left Potsfield.

Only Enoch wasn’t content with that. None of the townsfolk were, but he wasn’t going to put his people in more danger. As such, only one resident of Potsfield would live to see the Beast again — and it was him.

He wasn’t such a fool to seek the creature in the winter or in the night, but on a summer afternoon. Being a cat, he needed no horse or armor to slow him down in the forests. 

Not a mile into the thicket, and he heard a voice.

“There is a saying about curiosity and cats, mayor.”

The voice was deep. Rich and friendly beyond what it had any right to be. It curled like a warm blanket around Enoch’s mind, reminding him of a loving parent about to ask their child to commit some horror. But he didn’t look at the Beast. He didn’t dare. None of them knew how his power worked, if once seeing the shadow that it might damn them to some unknown fate within the Unknown.

“I still have eight lives left, Beast.” Enoch found the strength to hold his ground, and to hold the powerful edge to his voice he was so terrified of wavering.

“It may very well be seven if you’re looking for me,” the Beast said. He sounded like he was smiling. “You have something to ask me, don’t you?”

“I want my town back.”

“That’s not a question.”

Enoch’s lips curled back into a snarl. It wasn’t a question. He didn’t want it to be, for he didn’t want any answers. Whatever the Beast had done with his people, it was not something  
he wanted to understand. No good creature, in his opinion, should understand the mind of a monster. “What do I need to do to get them back?”

“A simple favor and I can give you some of them back.”

Some was better than none. It was already going better than he expected. “A favor?” Enoch asked skeptically, “Are you about to ask for my life, Beast?”

“No. I have no use for a cat. But I do have use for children.”

“Children?” Enoch finally looked up. He caught only a glimpse of the Beast’s horrid form before he averted his eyes back towards the ground. “Our town has no more children. You took  
all of them.”

“And I want to take more,” the Beast all but purred. “If you can help me in my hunt, help me find travelers who pass through your town, perhaps hold them for a little while, maybe I  
can give you the rest of your villagers back. But the children are mine.”

“You want me to murder children?” Enoch cried with disgust.

“No. Only hold them for me. Let me observe them from a distance as they work in your field…” That horrible smile crept back into the Beast’s voice. “I can tell you’ve made your choice.”

“It’s not much of a choice you’re giving me.”

“No, it’s not. But here’s my proposition. For every child you hold in your fields for me, I will give you one soul back. Your town will be whole again someday.”

Enoch hung his head low. The Beast had left. There were no footsteps to announce this, but his presence drained from the woods and his warmth left the cat, leaving Enoch only with the cold and unforgiving reality that was The Unknown.

Enoch walked home through the woods and coming into Potsfield from the west. His tail dragged on the dirt road and he lost himself to his thoughts as he stared out at the grey pumpkin patch. Just three years ago, this field would be colored the healthiest greens, oranges, and yellows from the harvest. But this year, just like the year before, the patch was barren. Martha couldn’t bare to work the fields alone, and there weren’t enough members of the community anymore to pick up her slack.

“Oh, this looks wretched, doesn’t it?” Enoch looked behind him to see a pair of brown boots scraping along behind him. He followed those boots upwards until he saw the hem of a grey dress, and then a grey shawl, until finally he saw the pale face of a girl smiling down at him. “My pumpkin pie this year may have to be a mudpie,” the girl laughed.  
Enoch wanted to be offended. But greater things weighed on his mind.

“Come here,” the girl knelt in the dirt and offered him a grubby hand, then began making kissing sounds to coax him over. “Do you live around here, Mister Booboo?” He felt her hands, sticky and oh-so-very unwelcome, drag along his fur and dirty it up.

To be fair, talking animals were a minority in the Unknown, but there were enough that most humans were taught to be polite. This human’s parents had apparently neglected to teach her those basic manners.

“How old are you?” Enoch asked with clear irritation. She looked too old to be calling a stranger Mister Booboo. 

The girl shouted and jumped backwards, falling rump-first into the dirt. She began spouting apologies faster than he could keep up with them and he watched that pretty face of hers flush into a bright red. On another day, with another person, he might have found it funny.

But this wasn’t the time or the place for humor. Enoch walked closer, his wide green eyes staring up at the girl. “I asked how old you are, child.”  
“I’m thirteen,” the girl answered through her fingers, which had taken to clutching at her reddened face. “I’m the Woodsman’s Daughter, I came here looking for fresh produce to make into a pie for my father.”

 _Well you’ve come to the wrong town._ He couldn’t say that. Not even if it was true. The Beast had taken the thirteen-year-olds of the village, he would take this poor, flustered girl… If Enoch decided to give her to him. He could just let her pass through and be honest with her.

“But it doesn’t seem like this town has any crops to offer,” The Woodsman’s Daughter continued. Enoch’s eyes widened.

“Now hold on now, hold on now. Just because you don’t see anything worth looking at now doesn’t mean our town is useless to you, girl. Why don’t you stay for the night? It’s getting late and I know Martha would love to have a visitor.”

The Woodsman’s Daughter looked back the way she came, peering into the forest that grew darker with every passing minute. 

“The sun is setting, child. That is when the Beast hunts.” Enoch pressed. He saw a light of understanding in her eyes followed by a morbid nod. Her father, this Woodsman, may not have taught her about the etiquette of speaking to animals, but he certainly did tell her about the Beast. Enoch stood and began walking along the dirt road again, this time his tail high in the air and alert. “I’ll walk you to Martha’s farmhouse. She’s a nice lady who lives towards the center of town. You’ll be safe there.” And completely unable to leave unnoticed, with how hysterical Martha would be to let go of yet another child in the night.

They walked together and made small talk along the way. He learned that her father had just found an abandoned mill and turned it into a home for them. Neither had been able to enjoy a fresh meal in quite some time due to the move. Enoch’s heart ached knowing that her father would never taste his daughter’s cooking again, but was powerless to stop it. After all, if he let the girl leave, the Beast would snatch her anyway. He reminded himself that until they came across the porch of the Anders residence.  
Enoch scratched at the door until he heard a shriek from inside.

“Mayor!” came a shrill voice from the other side of the door as it quickly flung open. Martha Anders was a portly woman, skinny compared to previous years, with a kind face and puffy eyes. They used to be beautiful, but that changed the night her son disappeared. “I told you not to scratch at the door like that! Do I look like I can afford another one?” She looked next to him, then gasped. “Who is this?”

The girl opened her mouth to speak, but Enoch interrupted her.

“This fine young lady is the Woodsman's Daughter. She’s passing through and looking for a place to sleep for the evening. Would you be able to give her a bed?”

“Of course!” Martha grabbed the poor girl by her shoulders and yanked her inside. The door slammed, right in Enoch’s face, and he heard the muffled shouts of delight as Martha prepared the house for company.

He began walking home, but he wouldn’t be sleeping tonight. 

 

“Work the field?” the Woodsman’s Daughter hadn’t been expecting that, and neither had Martha. Her spoon dropped with her jaw as she stared at the little black cat sitting on the table among various and sorry-looking breakfast components. 

“Yes,” Enoch nodded agreeably. “I’m afraid Martha isn’t strong like she was in her youth, and if you want pumpkins for that pie of yours, you’re going to have to put in some muscle… But on the bright side, that means you won’t have to be paying in coin. I think it’s rather fair.”

The Woodsman’s Daughter looked unsure. “My shoes aren’t meant for farm work.”

“Your shoes will be fine,” Enoch waved the concern off. “It’s only for a few hours.”

Martha didn’t offer to help the girl and Enoch would have been surprised if she had. They’d sat at this very table countless times, arguing about her needing to return to work while she argued right back that the fields held too many memories of her husband and son. There was a darkness for her in the pumpkin patch, and much to his own dismay, Enoch hoped the Beast was responsible.

They’d never gone over timeline, after all. How long did the Beast need to scout out the children before they left? Would he take them from the field itself? Many more questions Enoch had, and many more he knew would never be answered. Plenty he didn’t want to be. But he held the girl overnight, and now was holding her well into the early afternoon before sending her on her way. That must be enough, right?

Once breakfast was finished, the Woodsman's Daughter walked out and into the field. The amount of pumpkins available were small in number, but there was no less work to be done. Cleaning them, cutting them, putting down seeds for more. 

Enoch rested in the window pane of the Anders home as he watched her and watched the fields behind her, searching for anything that could signal that the Beast acknowledged this offering. So far, nothing.

“Is there any reason you’re keeping this girl in town so long?” He heard Martha’s voice behind him and felt a warm hand stroking the fur on his back. “It’s not like you to be so welcoming to outsiders, Enoch.”

“I missed seeing all the young faces in this town.” It wasn’t a lie, not really. “She’ll be free to leave in another hour or so. We don’t want it getting dark on her walk home.”

“Suppose it’s not a bad practice these days, having travelers work the fields for a room.” She noted. “I’ve got an extra bed available for them as… As many people do.”

“Children can’t be expected to pay for their goods,” Enoch replied smoothly. “We still need coin. We can still have the adults pay for their produce. The children I’m willing to be more lax with. We wouldn’t want some dangerous stranger in your home, Martha.”

“You’ve got a good heart, Enoch.” She said with a smile and walked back into her kitchen. 

 

By mid afternoon, the time came to return the Woodsman’s Daughter to her father. She was rewarded for her work in the pumpkin field, just as promised, and was given one of the larger pumpkins to bring back to her little home in the woods. Enoch had taken to walking her home, or at least to the edge of the forest, while she waddled with her pumpkin.  
“Forgive me, sir, but I have a question.” The Woodsman’s Daughter said, her voice mildly strained by the burden she carried. “I noticed in your town that there’s more empty homes than not, and I didn’t see any children.”

“That is an observation, child. Not a question.” Enoch said. Though in truth, he didn’t want to hear the question just as much as she didn’t want to ask it. “Hard times have fallen onto Potsfield, but things will improve.” 

The Woodsman’s Daughter smiled politely. “I hope that they improve soon, you have a lovely town. With lovely people, too.”

“I do.” Enoch said. His heart wasn’t in the words. How could it be, when this girl was so blissfully blind to the fate that laid before her, the deal that would surely end her life and soon. That is, if the Beast even took her. She could be too old, too big, too… Anything really. The cat knew not of the monster’s tastes, only that the Beast required offerings for his hunts.  
As they neared the edge of the forest, Enoch’s ears twitched. In the wind he could hear something, a sort of musical sound that came from deep and otherworldly lungs. 

_Chop the wood to light the fire, t’isn’t much that I require!  
Come with me and join the forest come with me and join the flame!_

“Do you hear that?” Enoch asked as he looked up to the Woodsman’s Daughter, who looked more concerned with not tripping on the dirt road with her pumpkin that she did the music of the woods. Damn humans and their flawed hearing.

“No, do you hear something?”

Enoch’s ears tilted backwards, drowning out the music and his conscience. She was already dead. Nothing that he could do with her now that she was in the Beast’s forest. And so he shook his head. “No. It must have been the wind.”

Enoch stopped at the edge of the thicket. “This is where I leave you, child.” He said. “If you stay on the road and in sight of the moon, you should have a safe journey home.” Hollow words that he managed to make sound convincing despite himself.

“Thank you,” She said. She put the pumpkin down and knelt to look Enoch in the eyes. He wished she wouldn’t. “You’ve been so hospitable to me, sir. Next time I’ll bring my father with me. Maybe I can convince him to move into town one day. I think he would like Missus Anders.” He could see an urge she had to pet him, but she refrained. A quick learner, but not quick enough. 

“I would love that,” Enoch lied. “When you and your father come around, we’ll have more produce and people to welcome you both, I’m sure.” While his heart ached to play such games, Enoch couldn’t deny that there was a sort of satisfaction he felt in it. His species was known for games, after all, those between cat and mouse. The longer he spent playing by the Beast’s rules, the more he came to realize how well they lined up to his own nature. “You stay safe now, little miss. I don’t want to hear of any harm befalling you.”

“You won’t!” She said as she picked her pumpkin up and continued onto the dirt road that sliced into the Beast’s thicket. Never to be seen again.

He walked back to town expecting the Beast to find him along the way, but to his relief and disappointment, it was a peaceful walk home.

A peaceful night of sleep followed.

And a quiet next day.

Another average day after that.

On the third day he was willing to give up. Clearly he had done something wrong, maybe the Beast wanted her in town for longer or maybe she was too old to be his prey. He did kill adults too, after all, but he had specified a child. Was the Woodsman’s Daughter too old? Did he somehow manage to find the one girl in the Unknown that the Beast didn’t want? Should he have held her longer?

Despite his doubts, he still made his way towards the edge of the pumpkin patch, where the dirt road met the woods. It was the afternoon, well before the dusk, and he’d taken to sitting there merely to think. He stared at the trees in silence for a time, wondering about this creature he’d made a deal with, and wondering about why he could only appear in the woods at night.  
“It would appear you’re a cat of your word.” 

That familiar deep voice washed over Enoch like a hot bath on a cold day. He felt such a strange rush of euphoria as the Beast praised him, one that didn’t sit right in his belly. He felt long, bony fingers running down his fur, from the top of his head to the tip of his tail. The fingers felt like wood, lacking any and all warmth and softness one might expect from flesh. Just as before, Enoch didn’t look at the Beast.

“The girl was acceptable then?” Enoch asked, neither telling the Beast to stop nor acknowledging the praise directly.

“She was delicious.” What a horrible word to use for that girl. His fur stood on end as he digested the phrasing. It was still disgusting, no matter how many ways he tried to look at it. The Beast noticed this, how Enoch’s tail suddenly grew fluffier and his back spiked. “Are you uncomfortable with your task, mayor?”

“That doesn’t matter. When are you upholding your end of the bargain?”

“You speak as though I haven’t. Perhaps you should spend more time in your town, mayor. You may find that some of the people have been seeing strange things. Like a ghost but better.” 

A pit of guilt buried itself deep within Enoch. He didn’t want to go back to his town to see whatever the Beast had done. He didn’t want to rush back and proclaim himself a hero to the remaining citizens. And it wasn’t because he regretted what he had done. He was coming to terms with the death of the Woodsman's Daughter. After all, she was a stranger, nobody to him. But the Beast was different. He was warmth and he was comfort and fulfilled promises. He was gains after an eternity of losses, and Enoch felt himself growing to accept this. To yearn for more and more. It crossed his mind to visit neighboring villages and tempt the children away but…

But he couldn’t do that.

“I’m looking forward to what you bring me next,” the Beast said and ran those bony fingers along Enoch’s pelt again. “Don’t disappoint me. I have a feeling you won’t.”


End file.
